Page 230 of Bound By Fire
55
Robyn
I pull into my parking bay at my apartment building. I get out, and Brutus falls into step behind me.
“Have a good night, Doc.” He stops at the door and tips his head at me.
“You too, Brutus.”
I go into the lobby. My feet are killing me. I should never have worn these shoes today, but they go with the suit, and I had that meeting with the board. I’m going to pour a glass of wine and then get onto those budget reports while my dinner warms up in the oven. For once, the idea of pre-packed lasagna does not appeal.
I press the button for my floor and get out when the doors open.
Smoke grins when he sees me.
“Hi, Doc.” He raises both hands and gives me two thumbs-up. “You have awonderfulevening.”
I blink at him.
“Um. Thanks?”
I shake my head and turn toward my apartment. Whatever. I’m too tired to figure out what’s going on with him.
I dig my keys out of my bag as I walk down the hall, slot the right one into the lock, and push the door open.
I take two steps inside, drop my keys on the floor, and then almost plant myself face-first…because what the actual?
Why are there rose petals scattered all over the floor?
I close the door and walk further inside, my mouth falling open as I do.
The lights in my apartment are set to low.
I sniff because something smells really good. Way better than pre-packed lasagna.
My pulse picks up. Did a criminal break in and cook me dinner? Should I be screaming for Smoke? Then I think of his grin and realize that he knew about this. The bastard!
I push my hair behind my ear and step further inside, around the corner, and into the main living area.
Ridge is standing in the middle of my living room in a charcoal-gray suit. He looks like he stepped out of a men’s magazine.
“Hi.” His voice is deep.
He looks so freaking gorgeous that I forget to breathe for a few seconds.
No, he doesn’t look gorgeous.
No, no, no. Crap!
Noooooooo!
“I’m sorry… I, um…” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His expression turns sheepish. “I…”
I follow his gaze.
There are rose petals everywhere. Not just by the door. They’re scattered across the floor of my living room, dotted over the rug, trailing toward the kitchen. There is a small round table set up in the center of the space. A table I have absolutely neverseen before, because I don’t own one. It’s covered in a crisp white tablecloth. There is a lit candle on it and two place settings with silver cutlery, which I also don’t recognize. There are two champagne flutes, with a bottle in a chiller next to the table.
He has gone to a huge amount of trouble.
